


i fell heavy into your arms

by strictlybecca



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Minor Character Death, Noah Shoots A Gun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-24
Updated: 2011-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:08:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strictlybecca/pseuds/strictlybecca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Noah Mayer is a good cop. He is. And he's got a good life. He thinks. It seems like a routine call out to a crime scene the day he finds Damian Grimaldi dead on the floor of his office, but that call leads him into a world he's not sure he's ready to stumble into. Mostly thanks to meeting one Luke Snyder, who strides into his life and cubicle like he owns the world, forcing Noah to face feelings that he's been burying his whole life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i fell heavy into your arms

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the annual Nuke Big Bang at the [nukebigbang](http://nukebigbang.livejournal.com) livejournal comm. [Fanmixed](http://jackie-oh.livejournal.com/249073.html) by the ever fantastic jackie_oh.

-

 

  
_i came home_   


  


  
_like a stone_   


  


  
_and i fell heavy into your arms_   


  


  
_these days of dust_   


  


  
_which we've known_   


  


  
_will blow away with this new sun_   


 

-

 

What’ve we got Doc?” Dusty asked as he lifted the police tape to help Noah duck his lanky frame under it with practiced ease. 

“Surprisingly enough Donovan, it’s a dead body,” Reid drawled, giving Dusty his standard ‘are you seriously  _that_  stupid?’ look. 

“What’s surprising is the fact that I haven’t killed you yet Oliver,” Dusty said pleasantly, making a few of the surrounding beat officers chuckle.

“No, the most surprising fact is how long you’ve survived despite the fact you only seem to be functioning on two brain cells rubbing furiously together.”

“Can you guys keep your verbal foreplay to a minimum?” Noah cut in absentmindedly, his focus on the body in front of him. “We kind of have work to do.” Dusty and Reid both gave him dirty looks but Noah hardly noticed.

“The kid who found the body is in the next room over,” Reid added a moment later, gesturing to the door that led to the land of secretary cubicles.

“Kid?” Noah asked, bracing himself for the worst. Would they have to call Special Victims?

“Eh, like your age,” Reid said blithely, ignoring the scowl Noah sent his way. He hadn’t been a kid since about the age of eleven when his dad handed him a gun and told him he was going to learn how to shoot and then become a cop. “Short blonde, cute in that yappy dog way.” Considering Reid would sooner kill a tiny fluffy dog than be in its presence for an extended period of time, Noah deduced this was not a compliment.

“Not your type then Doc?” Dusty smirked, leaning his elbows on the body stretcher the morgue assistants had brought in and resting his head on his hands cheerfully. Reid glanced up at Dusty, who was now fluttering his eyelashes obnoxiously down at the coroner. 

A wicked smirk crossed Reid’s face and he stood swiftly and crossed to where Dusty was standing. “No,” Reid replied slowly, his voice deep and thoughtful. “My type is definitely… rougher,” he leaned closer to Dusty’s face, which had gone pale, “Tougher… more…” Reid paused for a long moment, the room silent as Reid’s lips drew closer to Dusty, who was frozen in place. “More… fucking moronic Donovan!” Reid bellowed suddenly, shoving at the rolling stretcher and sending Dusty to the ground in a heap. “Get the fuck away from my body,” Reid snapped.

Dusty stared up at the looming coroner for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “Sure thing Doc,” Dusty said, smirking as he stood and brushed himself off as Reid rolled his eyes and turned to crouch beside the body of a tall blonde man in an extremely expensive suit, his watch worth more than Noah’s yearly salary.

“How long you been a fag, Oliver?” snickered Wallace, the beat cop who’d been the first car to the scene. His partner, Davidson, snorted into the coffee he was holding.

“Since birth, thanks Wallace,” Reid replied, rolling his eyes. The two cops paused and glanced at the coroner.

“For real?” Davidson asked, his expression shuttered.

“Yeah Davidson, for realsies,” Reid replied in a dry tone that said clearly,  _fuck off and die._

Noah ignored them all and crossed to the far room that Reid had gestured to, nudging the door open to reveal several older women, all crying, all crowded around – Noah’s stomach knotted violently, more bothered by the thoughts that followed than the dead body next door.  _There was something terribly twisted about that,_  said a voice in the back of his brain, but he wasn’t much inclined to listen to that. Not when he was staring at the man in front of him and thinking the things he was thinking.

He was beautiful to look at, all broad straight lines in a perfectly tailored suit. His blond hair was just the slightest bit too long and he constantly ran his hands through it – in agitation? habit? – but it always fell back into his eyes. Noah just stared for a moment, trying to decide whether he should be terrified or turned on – or just terrified that he was turned on. He paused in the doorway just long enough for Dusty to make an impatient noise behind him, nudging past him easily.

“I’m Detective Donovan and this is my partner, Detective Mayer,” Dusty said, in his best  _Hello, I Am A Non Threatening Officer of the Law_  voice, forcing Noah to snap to attention and actually start doing his job, beautiful blond bedamned.

“I was told you found the body sir?” Noah said, his voice steady and even, specifically designed to say  _hi, you can trust me with your secrets and your feelings and maybe even a confession if you’re so inclined._  The man lifted a hand from where he had been comforting one of the older secretaries with red eyes and tearstained cheeks and stared at Noah for a long moment before nodding, long hair flopping back into his eyes.

“That’s right,” he said, frowning a little as he shoved it out of his face again. “I’m Luke Snyder, I’m Damien’s marketing manager,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder at the office door behind him – which read Luciano Grimaldi in gold lettering. Noah read the sign with a furrowed brow before turning back to gaze questioningly at Luke, who frowned further. “Oh…” Luke sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. “It’s a little complicated.” Noah raised an eyebrow – complicated always made for interesting motives. “Damien was also my biological father.” Noah’s hand slipped slightly from the pad he was writing notes on and he stared at Luke. “I was adopted when I was young,” Luke clarified – which made absolutely nothing clearer – something that was obviously apparent on Noah’s face because Luke sighed in frustration and gestured Noah to follow him further down the hallway. They paused outside what seemed to be a custodian’s closet. Luke didn’t seem to notice.

“You have to understand,” Luke said in a tone that clearly intimated that he didn’t expect Noah to understand in the least. “My family has gone through some extremely turbulent times and although Damien i-is-” Luke stuttered, blinking, an odd expression on his face, “- _was_  my biological father, I didn’t really have a relationship with him.”

“Firstly,” Noah said dryly, dropping his  _you can trust me, I promise_  tone without realizing it, the man before him drawing out a bit of snark before Noah could reign it back properly. “I’m not brand new to Oakdale. I’m a little bit familiar with how this town works.” Luke had the decency to look slightly abashed – Noah tried not to think about the attractive blush that colored his cheeks. “Secondly,” he continued bluntly, but not coldly, “As far as I can tell, you were his second hand man here. In what world is that not a relationship?”

Luke scowled. “It’s complicated.”

Noah smiled pleasantly. “Try me. Sir,” he tacked on belatedly, remembering at the last second that he was supposed to be the polite one within his set of partners and that snarking at the blond was no way to achieve a damn thing. Not that he knew he wanted to achieve anything. Well, anything relating to the blond. Well, anything related to certain aspects of- okay, he was confusing even himself. Moving on.

“When I came out, he was less than thrilled,” Luke said after a long moment of consideration, his face still screwed up into a tight, impatient expression. “In several very mentally destructive ways. So we parted ways.”

Noah’s throat caught tight – Luke was… Noah’s mind struggled around the word. “I’m sorry,” Noah said, honestly and sincerely, his eyes meeting Luke’s with much more ease than Noah would have originally anticipated. Because their gazes were locked, Noah managed to spot the brief moment of surprise in Luke’s eyes, before it was smoothed away under the perfectly calm and collected surface of the rich, spoiled son with little talent and no drive.

Six minutes with Mr. Grimaldi-turned-Snyder and already Noah knew that was utterly false.

“He needed someone he could trust with the company,” Luke continued, his tone more carefully modulated. “He asked me to step in, since I was between… engagements. I agreed and I’ve been here for several years.” Noah nodded in response, making note of it.

“You don’t see very…” Noah began, pausing as if he was searching for the right word, an easy tactic to get a person talking – whatever they inevitably filled in told him something about them.

“Torn up?” Luke offered. “It’s not really any of your business Detective…” he trailed of just as meaningfully as Noah, who almost let his impressed smirk show on his lips but managed at the last second to hide it.

“Mayer,” he said instead, helpfully, handing Luke a card. “Detective Noah Mayer. Call me if ever you remember anything, anything at all,” he said, the words falling off his tongue naturally after years of doing it. “Please call me.”

Luke made a non-committal noise. 

-

“Thanks for all your help. Remember, if you think of anything that may seem pertinent, please don’t hesitate to call, my number’s right there at the bottom,” Dusty was saying for the fourteenth time, handing over yet another business card as he sent a sympathetic smile towards Damien’s head secretary, who had been sobbing harder than any of the others and had nearly had a conniption fit when Luke had to untangle himself from her embrace to speak to Noah for a few minutes. A few seconds later, Dusty was striding away and heading straight for Noah. “You ready to kick this popsicle stand?”

“Pretty sure you’re mixing metaphors,” Noah muttered, but nodded and held the door open for Dusty to pass through.

“What a gentleman,” Dusty teased, frowning when his comment didn’t even get a hint of a rise out of Noah. They traveled the short elevator ride down and out towards the parking lot, Dusty speaking only when they’d both slid into the Crown Vic, Noah hauling his lanky frame into the seat specifically set up to accommodate his ridiculously long legs. “Hey, what’s up?”

Noah glanced at Dusty after a long moment of silent contemplation – the sudden urge to tell someone about what he’d felt was overwhelming for a brief second. Looking at Dusty, Noah realized that he was tired of hiding, tired of not saying a damn word aloud, tired of not saying  _anything._  He felt so confused all the time, so trapped and for once he just wanted to say something to someone; he was sure if he just said the words aloud he’d know if they felt right or not. He stared at Dusty for a long, long moment before realizing he hadn’t said a damn thing. “Nothing,” he said lamely, knowing Dusty would give him shit for it.

Instead, Dusty looked sideways at Noah and quirked an eyebrow. Noah just stared straight ahead, trying not to let any of the fear and uncertainty cross his face. After a long moment Dusty just sighed and started the car, glancing halfheartedly either way down the road before pulling out with a squeal of the tires. Noah snorted, far too used to his partner’s daredevil driving to give Dusty the reaction he wanted.

“Guess it’s time to go report to Captain Hardass,” Dusty muttered, cutting off a BMW with enthusiasm and enjoying the look on the driver’s face when he realized he had flipped off a police officer.

Noah barked out a laugh, covering his mouth a second later. “Dusty,” he said warningly, glaring at his partner – though the quirked smile on his lips lessened the severity of the expression.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dusty grunted, waving one hand in a careless gesture, “I know. Rule number seventeen.  _Try not to make you laugh when I call your dad names,_ ” he recited mockingly, rolling his eyes. “I know it’s not your fault kid, but damn – your dad’s got issues.”

Noah just grunted in response – Dusty didn’t take any offense to this though, he knew his partner well enough to understand that for the tacit agreement that it was. Being a detective under the tyrannical rule of Captain Winston Mayer wasn’t any walk in the park, but everyone at the precinct knew Noah had it worst. The amount of times the Captain had reamed Noah out in front of the whole precinct numbered high enough that Dusty had stopped counting.

The radio crackled to life on the dashboard, the familiar voice of dispatch coming over the speaker. “Car 147, dispatch is calling you back to the precinct. Your ETA?”

Noah cast a glance at the traffic in front of them before reaching to lift the radio to his lips, “Gonna call it about twenty, twenty five minutes Dispatch, some nasty traffic right on the corner of Main.”

“Gotcha.” The car fell back into silence as both detectives stared at the unmoving truck in front of them, listening to the seconds tick away and the occasional burst of radio noise.

“Wanna gumball it?” Dusty asked a second later, looking like a kid on Christmas Eve. Noah snorted again, this time an actual smile crossing his lips.

“Go for it Donovan, just don’t get us killed.” Dusty whooped and slapped the flashing blue light on top of car, already pulling around the truck in front of them.

“Killed in the line of duty?” Dusty asked incredulously, “Dying a hero? Me? Not a chance Mayer. Your precious royal ass is safe for another day,” he said, though considering the speed to which he accelerated was at least double the listed speed limit, his words were less than comforting.

“Your concern for my ass is both touching and disconcerting,” Noah said dryly, startling a full belly laugh from his partner even as he swerved around a tiny compact car.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dusty snorted, “Someone’s gotta watch out for you kid.” The unspoken  _‘because your dad sure doesn’t’_  sat in the air uncomfortably a moment before it was dashed away by yet another whoop from Dusty – this time he’d swerved around a Hummer, horn blaring. Noah just smiled tightly.

-

Dusty winced – hard. The second Noah had stepped foot back inside the precinct, the Captain’s voice had boomed across the forest of desks, shouting for Mayer to get his ass in here right now. Noah’s face had set into the expression that Dusty was beginning to absolutely despise – there was no emotion there, not a flash of damn personality. It was like Noah shut himself down like a computer to deal with his father. He had set his files on his desk promptly and headed over towards the Captain’s office. The door slammed loudly behind them, but the Captain’s shouts could easily be heard through the door.

It was generally the same old stuff – Noah wasn’t working hard enough, his close rate wasn’t high enough, he was being a disappointment to the Mayer name, yada yada. Dusty wanted to storm right in there and beat the shit out of the Captain some days. Noah worked harder than any other detective on the force, his close rate was the second highest and that’s only because the first highest had been doing it about fifteen years longer. Also, Dusty knew that if Noah was his son, Dusty would be proud beyond measure. Not that he’d ever tell the kid that.

Noah escaped several minutes later, looking like he’d gone ten rounds with a professional boxer. “’Nother cup of coffee?” Dusty asked, not looking up from his work, knowing how pity made Noah feel useless.

“No thanks,” Noah said softly, eyes traveling the precinct, though not settling on anything - as if unsure of what he was looking for.

-

Though he wasn’t sure he would ever get the hang of wearing a suit and tie every day to work, Noah knew that they lent him a certain air of respectability that otherwise his beanpole stature and young face would erase completely. Dusty was also capable of looking respectable every now and again, though Noah would never understand why the man chose a profession that forced him to wear a tie every day when he clearly hated them more than anything.

“Stop fussing with your clothes, you look like a five year old going to church,” Noah muttered as they started across the Snyder farmyard, hands in their pockets, Crown Vic parked out by the road. The Snyder farm was famous for being ground zero for what amounted to the best pies in three states and also the best swimming hole for amorous lovers during the summertime. Each member of the Oakdale PD had had to do a round up at one point or another at the Snyder farm to find at least one “kidnapped” kid, who had just decided to head out with a boyfriend or girlfriend and spend some time skinny dipping at the Snyder swimming hole.

The morning had started at Snyder manor to talk with Lily Snyder and Lucinda Walsh, easily the two people, other than Luke and his father, who had had the most connection to Damien while he was here in Oakdale. Both had confirmed alibis for the estimated time of death – nearly one am in the morning, two days ago. They’d been shopping for several new pieces of art for Worldwide offices and the Lakeview and at least three separate gallery owners confirmed video conferencing with them between the hours of eleven pm and two am. Holden Snyder, on the other hand, had no alibi. He had been napping at the farm and woke up only a few hours later to start cleaning out the barn, but neither Lily nor Lucinda, nor any of the three smaller children running around at the time could confirm that.

So Dusty and Noah were headed to Snyder farm to see if Emma Snyder could - and also to see if they could establish an alibi for her.

“Only if you stop staring at this farm like a four year old at a petting zoo,” Dusty replied, elbowing Noah in the ribs and making it look like he was just resettling his jacket.

“Shut up,” Noah replied lamely, making Dusty chuckle as they started up the old creaky porch steps, the wood groaning comfortably with their weight as they paused at the front door. In unison they knocked and waited.

The door swung open and the kindly face of Emma Snyder, pie baker and master cook extraordinaire, greeted them with a smile. “Well hello officers, what can I do for you today? Another child lost to the lure of the swimming hole?”

Dusty laughed, shaking his head. “No ma’am, unfortunately we’ve got a bit more unpleasantness than that to discuss. We’re here to see whether or not you can confirm your whereabouts and the whereabouts of some of your family members on the night of Damien Grimaldi’s death.” 

“Oh,” Emma said, her face serious for a moment. “That is some very nasty unpleasantness. Why don’t you come in and sit down, and I’ll make you each a nice cup of coffee.”

“That sounds wonderful Emma, thank you,” Dusty said with vehemence – Noah had woken up late this morning and it had been his turn to grab coffee. Noah ignored the nasty look Dusty sent him and instead gestured to the wide fenced in area where several horses were meandering about, nosing at each other.

“Do you mind I go take a look at your horses Mrs. Snyder?” Noah asked, smiling a little sheepishly. “I’ve always loved them.”

“Oh, of course honey. But beware of Foster and Wallace over there on the end. They’ve each got a nasty bite to them this morning. Don’t know what’s gotten into them.” Noah nodded his thanks and started across the yard, avoiding the random chicken or stray cat every now and again.

For the most part, Noah was telling the truth. He rather liked horses, not that he’d gotten to ride much in his life. He and his father moved around every now and again as Winston got assigned to better and better posts in different cities within different police departments and they’d spent the better part of two years in Kentucky where Noah had learned to ride. He’d liked it there a lot, but they’d moved the next year and Noah had spent his senior year in the worst school in New York City, barely passing most of his classes and ruining all chances he’d had for perhaps finding something else to do other than being a cop for the rest of his life.

But truthfully, Noah wanted a look around the farm. He wanted to see if there was anything of note there, perhaps anything worth investigating. He wasn’t exactly expecting a bloody gun and a note from Damien explaining how his murder had gone down, but he was still hopeful for something interesting.

“What the hell are you doing here?” came a voice from behind him and Noah started from where he was petting a dark horse down the nose, sending the horse snorting in dissatisfaction. He turned and just behind him was Luke Snyder, leading a sweating horse back to the barn – shirtless. Noah swallowed.

“Just asking your grandmother a few questions,” Noah said politely. “Detective Donovan’s inside, I just asked Mrs. Snyder if I could hang out with the horses while they chatted.”

“You mean, hang out on our property to see if any one of us left a gun and a detailed plan of how we killed Damien around,” Luke snarked, absent mindedly patting the neck of the horse shifting behind him, getting a little restless. Noah couldn’t help but smirk at how Luke had nearly read his mind.

“Or something like that,” Noah agreed amiably.

“Well, you’re not going to find anything,” Luke said, scratching at his very distracting collarbone. Noah was doing his best not to stare but Luke was… Luke was incredibly attractive. The suits had only hinted at the shape beneath and now that Noah was observing first hand, he could say with certainty that Luke was hot.

The thought itself made his stomach ache unpleasantly; he was still so unsure of telling anyone or even saying the word aloud to himself, alone in his apartment. For now he would just observe Luke and try not to tear everything apart in his head.

“Probably not,” Noah replied, just as politely as before. Luke glared at him – it was kind of amusing. Noah was almost sure that no one had just tried to maintain politeness in the face of Luke’s high powered, bossy, know-it-all routine. It seemed to set him entirely on edge.

They stood in silence for a moment, Noah watching Luke with careful eyes, Luke glaring back, before Luke strode by him and nudged the gate of the corral open, slapping the rump of the horse to get him to push past and join the other horses in the circular fenced space.

“So, you really think that someone in my family did this?” Luke asked, his tone dangerously quiet. He settled his arms against the fence just a few inches from Noah’s arm and Noah was sure he could feel the warmth of Luke’s skin from beneath his layers of shirt and suit jacket.

Noah thought for a long moment, taking time to both consider the question and consider how honest he should be. “Although all signs point to yes, I’m not convinced,” he eventually replied – an answer that seemed to just make Luke more frustrated.

“No one in my family would ever do anything like this,” Luke said firmly. “And to think so is just poor detecting.” He glared at Noah out of his periphery – Noah’s eyes were now on the horses in front of them, still begging for treats and pets.

“You wouldn’t be the first to accuse me of that,” Noah muttered without thinking, Luke looking at him sharply. Noah, suddenly tense with how much he had revealed in that simple statement, studiously kept his gaze forward, refusing to look at Luke. “My Captain, my boss, believes that I should be focusing all my energy on your family,” Noah said eventually, slowly, a moment later.

“Well, he’s wrong,” Luke said bluntly. “And that’s that.” There was a pause. “The Captain… that’s your father, right?” Noah hmmed affirmatively, considering his next words for a long moment.

“My father’s convinced of a lot of things,” Noah said meaningfully. “A lot of things I don’t agree with, or that he doesn’t know and I don’t think I could ever tell him.” Luke looked at him steadily for a moment without blinking. “Apparently this case is one of them,” he added quietly, turning back to gaze at the horses.

Luke was quiet for a moment and for a second there, Noah thought that there was something in the air, a soft, warm feeling that could possibly have led to something… more. Luke was looking at him with quiet wonder and for the first time, his eyes were kind. Noah got the sense that for people who weren’t trying to tear apart Luke’s family, Luke was probably quite kind. Noah knew he was passionate and protective of those he loved – things that Noah could only respect and appreciate. But the quiet huff of horses and the soft thud of hooves on grass were broken by Dusty’s voice calling over to him.

“No alibi for Holden, probably going to have to investigate further, he might be our guy,” he said loudly as he strode over the hill towards where he’d seen Noah disappear to. At the sight of Luke beside Noah, Dusty winced and Noah could only imagine the faintly horrified look on his own face.

Luke’s face turned sharp and hard and he glared venomously at the two of them. “Stay the fuck away from my family,” he snarled, shoving past Noah and Dusty and stomping away and back up to the house. Noah watched him silently, eyes sliding over his tanned shoulders and down his back, stomach tight with guilt and frustration.

“Nice Donovan, let’s alienate the whole family while we’re at it,” Noah said gruffly, pushing away from the fence and giving the dark horse another pat on the nose before striding up the hill towards Dusty.

Dusty gave him a long look before shrugging a shoulder. “Never learned how to play nice,” he said simply. “Missed that day in preschool.”

“Considering how lacking your social skills are, I think you probably missed a couple years in there too,” Noah responded dryly, though his brain was still spinning around Luke. They started up the hill back to the main part of the farm too – though instead they turned towards the Vic and headed back to the precinct.

-

Noah stood, mouth even and breathing steady, as he readied the gun in his hand, taking aim at the target down at the far end of the shooting range. He forced his mind to clear, wanting nothing but the feel of the gun in his hands, the slight jerk of the kick, the burn in his muscles as he strained to stand perfectly steady.

He could barely hear the echo of his own gun over his ear guards but he felt each jerk of the weapon as he pulled the trigger, again and again, venting his frustration at the inanimate target at the end of the row. Thinking about Luke just increased his aggravation and frustration exponentially. It was like everything that man did was specifically designed to drive Noah insane – in every manner possible. Noah resolutely didn’t think about what he thought about at night when he was alone in his apartment. Instead, he allowed the slight burn of the kick to erase everything but the rhythm and the feel of the gun in his hands.

The light in his lane flashed and he realized that he could sense someone behind him. He tapped his safety on, lowered his weapon, setting it down carefully, and turned. Before him stood a haggard, terrified, vibrating version of his partner who was staring at him with wide, furious eyes.

Noah tugged off his ear guards with wide eyes. “Dusty, what the fuc-”

“Rei- Doctor Oli- fuck, Oliver’s in the hospital,” Dusty said tightly, collecting his gun and badge from the ledge against the back wall of the shooting range, fumbling with shaking hands to put his jacket on. Noah reached out, snagging his elbow quickly.

“What happened?” Noah asked, eyes wide, feeling off kilter now that his stress-relieving activity had been interrupted - and by such startling news. “Will he survive?”

“Fucking bashed,” Dusty spat and both Noah’s cop instinct and survival instinct sat up and stared in response. “And I know who fucking did it too.”

“Wh-what?” Noah asked, sounding like a broken record but unable to help himself as he just stared – he’d seen bashings before obviously, had seen broken bodies on sidewalks, bruised and mangled and bloody. But Reid? Their ridiculously annoying, brash, assholish genius of a medical examiner? It didn’t seem possible. “Who?” he demanded.

“Wallace,” Dusty bit out. “Wallace and Davidson. I’d bet my fucking badge on it. They’ve been bullying Reid for weeks, leaving notes and making comments like fucking grade school kids. Tonight they were like the second car to hit the scene even though they were supposed to be fucking patrolling by Old Town and not the fucking opposite side of Oakdale. I’m gonna fucking kill them. I’m going to find them and fucking show them what bashing looks like.” With that, Dusty turned and started towards the stairs that led back into the precinct – but not before Noah snatched at Dusty’s elbow again, holding him in place.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, “What are you going to do?”

“I fucking told you,” Dusty snarled. “I’m going to teach them a lesson.”

“We are officers of the law Dusty,” Noah snapped, his hand tightening around Dusty’s arm to an almost painful degree he was sure, but he wasn’t sure what else he could do to make sure his partner wasn’t going to run out on him. “This is not how we do things! There are protocols and standard operating procedures and-”

“And all of that can go kiss my ass!” Dusty snapped back. “This may not be how you do things kid, but in the big leagues we have our own rules.”

“There aren’t any rules but the law,” Noah argued, half terrified that he had to be arguing this with his partner, the person on whom he relied the most, the guy who held Noah’s life in his hands every time they stepped out of the precinct and into the real world.

“The law won’t do shit Mayer, you just don’t care, do you?” Noah opened his mouth to argue, but Dusty plowed on in his typical way, unseeing and uncaring. “Bet you’re just like your fucking homophobic dad and the rest of this piece of shit department. What, you want to punch a couple fags too? Can’t ever stand up to your fucking father, your fucking priorities are so screwed. It’s probably ‘cause you fucking believe every word he says,” Dusty spat, tearing his arm out of Noah’s now suddenly loose fingered grip and moving towards the staircase.

Noah was frozen for a moment, heart thudding in his chest, his pulse racing so loud that all he could hear was the rush of it in his ears as he stared at Dusty moving away from him. His partner, the one who he’d pathetically thought of as his best friend in this godforsaken town, the only one who Noah had thought might get him – had just told him everything he was terrified of hearing.

“I’m gay,” Noah said quietly – but it echoed in the empty shooting range and Dusty froze. “I was going to tell you soon, was kind of working my way up to it. Scary shit, right?” He laughed dully. “So no, I don’t agree with my father or this precinct. The opposite, actually. And what I know is this – you go out there and find Wallace and Davidson and you teach them a lesson, right? You give them a little hell, tear them new ones, smack them around a bit – and then what? You get arrested? You leave Reid out in the open for more attacks? Let him wake up in the hospital alone?” Noah shook his head and started for the stairs, brushing by Dusty gently. “I don’t think I’m the one with the fucked priorities.”

He headed up the stairs and out of the precinct in silence. Dusty didn’t follow.

-

When Noah woke the next morning, he was exhausted. Having stopped by the hospital late last night to check in on Reid, which he hadn’t been allowed to do, Noah had only managed to collapse into bed several hours before his alarm went off.

He laid there, just breathing for several minutes, trying to consider exactly how this day could go worse than yesterday. He came up with several likely options and discarded them all to convince himself to roll out of bed. His morning routine and drive over to the station was utterly silent as he picked through just how terrible yesterday had been, how terrible today would probably be and whether or not Dusty would tell anyone what he’d told him.

Most of Noah was saying absolutely not, but the constantly terrified part of his brain was still anxious and could not be comforted in the slightest. Noah strode into the precinct, his typical business face on, making a point not to look at the empty seat across from him as he slid into his seat, settling his papers in the center of his desk.

Most of the cubicles were empty, hardly anyone in the precinct early. There were of course a few stragglers from the midnight shift since the police station was never not on duty, but for the most part Noah was alone with his thoughts. One by one, his fellow detectives filed in and every time the door swung open, Noah tensed. He wasn’t sure he was ready to look Dusty in the eye and say anything that wasn’t rude or anything that wasn’t straight out pleading to keep what Noah had told him to himself.

But of course Dusty eventually had to appear. Noah made sure not to watch Dusty as he moved towards their desks – but he couldn’t help it when the larger man hovered obnoxiously over Noah’s shoulder – something he knew well that Noah hated. 

There was a quiet thunk as Dusty set his gift down at Noah’s elbow before crossing to his own desk. Noah stared at the enormous coffee cup with something like wonder. It was completely obvious that it was from the expensive store on the opposite side of town, the one that Noah preferred and Dusty hated. Noah tried to hide a smile and failed miserably. His shoulders slumped slightly in relief and for once in his life, he slunk down into his chair, perfect posture obliterated by the relief coursing through him.

“So,” Dusty began seriously and quietly, leaning forward so that only Noah could hear him, setting Noah’s teeth a little on edge. “On a scale of one to ten, how hot am I to gay guys?” A split second passed and Noah blinked, stunned – before following it up by pegging Dusty in the head with a pen. Dusty just laughed and Noah finally broke into a grin.

“We’re fine,” Dusty assured his partner and for once, Noah felt like that wasn’t a complete lie.

-

 _so break my step  
_   
  
_and relent  
_   
  
  
_you forgave and i won't forget  
_   
  
  
_know what we've seen  
_   
  
  
_and him with less  
_   
  
  
_now in some way  
_   
  
  
_shake the excess_   


  
-

The nights passed and Noah was close to wanting to tear his hair out as he stared at the whiteboard he and Dusty had covered with information and pictures, trying to piece the murder together visually and trying to find a path that wouldn’t lead them to yet another dead end. It didn’t help that their concentration was split between the Grimaldi case and both his and Dusty’s determination to keep the Oliver case floating above obvious internal attempts to sweep it away. Cops stuck together, but unlike some in the precinct, they were both determined to make sure that Reid’s case didn’t disappear.

“It’s not Holden,” Noah insisted, tapping his dry erase marker against the eight by eleven version of the glossy photo they had of Holden. “It can’t be, it doesn’t add up.”

“Correction,” Dusty said with a sigh. “It makes perfect sense. It’s too perfect.” Noah nodded in agreement, twisting the cap of the marker about thirty times as he stared at the murder board - which wasn’t providing a lot of developments.

“Mayer!” came the shout from behind Noah’s shoulder from the Captain’s office.

“Christ Mayer,” Dusty said, rolling his eyes. “What did you do now?” Noah hushed Dusty and started with speed towards the Captain’s door.

“Arrest Holden Snyder, he did it,” were the first words out of the Captain’s mouth as Noah slid through the door and nudged it close, standing at attention beside his father’s desk.

Noah blanched. “Uh, I, uh, sir, I’m not really sure that’s…”

The Captain leaned over Noah, looming threatening. “Did I make myself not clear?” 

“Perfectly clear. I’m just wondering if we’re being a little hasty.”

“It’s not your job to question me,” the Captain said dangerously. “Your job is to fucking do as I say and not fuck up. But you seem to be failing in both of those regards Noah. I’m constantly seeing shoddy work from you on all of your cases – if you’re missing Holden Snyder as the murderer on this one, maybe you need to realize that you’re not cut out for police work,” the Captain said disgustedly.

Noah couldn’t swallow or breathe or move. All his life, all he’d worked for, all he’d ever done or excelled at was to impress his father and become a cop. Not just a cop, but a good one - a  _great_  one. He wanted to help people, catch the bad guys and save the day. And not once had his father ever recognized that. “No,” Noah said without thinking. “I’m not going to arrest Holden.”

Captain Winston Mayer looked down at his son as if he were scum on the bottom of his shoe. “I could fire you for insubordination,” he growled. “You add nothing to this force, I’m sick and tired of having other, better detectives pick up the slack for you and Donovan. You will go arrest Holden Snyder and you will do it tonight, or I’m suggesting to the higher ups that we let you and Donovan go for inferior and inadequate work.” And his father would, Noah realized. In a heartbeat, his father would tear this department apart to keep his name on top.

Noah’s skin crawled and he nodded slowly. “Fine. Leave Dusty out of this. We’ll go pick Holden up.” He felt sick as he spoke the words, but Dusty’s life was the job. Without it, Noah knew he’d crawl right back into the bottle and Noah would lose him forever.

“Good,” the Captain said simply. “Now get out.”  _I’m sick of you_  was unspoken but heard.

Noah moved slowly, as if walking through water, as he left the office, closing the door behind him quietly. He started back towards his desk, startling when Margo, one of the detectives who’d been at the precinct for the longest, snagged him around the elbow and tugged him to a stop. “I believe you,” she said firmly but quietly. “I know the Snyders, I know the family, Holden didn’t do this.”

Noah just nodded and pulled away from her grip gently. That was good to hear, but it didn’t change anything. Noah nodded at Dusty and grabbed his jacket, badge and gun. Dusty followed suit without words and they strode from the precinct in silent unison.

-

Noah stood by the Snyder family farm kitchen table, feeling awful and awkward as he tucked his hands into his pockets, watching as the small children were quickly herded upstairs, Snyder faces drawn and angry and resolute. Dusty stood silent and steady just behind him, at his right shoulder. Noah was glad he was here – he was absolutely sick to his stomach as he watched Natalie stare at him as she started up the stairs. For a brief second, Noah felt like he couldn’t breathe – this was wrong, this was so wrong. He could feel it so deep down in his bones that for a moment there he was convinced that  _liar_  was carved into his ribs.

So he glanced down, the kitchen table before him filled with half finished food, toys, books, papers, keys, a flipflop, two half cut lemons and… a notebook. Noah’s eyes were immediately drawn to the handwriting on the page – familiar.  _Luke’s._

It was a poem.

 _I know you by heart  
Robin’s egg blue blood  
Rivers of veins pouring past  
Acres of pale soft wrist and bone  
Memorize (mesmerizeprioritize)  
The art in arteries  
Of  
Red paint splashed across pure machine  
Thumping pumping whistling  
Tearing sewing sew so  
So you  
So me  
I know you by heart  
By heart I mean  
As if of  
Crinkled worn x’s marking  
Jagged dark spots  
Never been but seen  
Drawn by scarred cartographers  
Ink and blood and callouses  
But known  
But loved  
I know you by heart  
Knowing like  
The bucking noise of thump and thunk  
And life’s pursuit in blood and awe  
Iron and pride  
Cannot willnot shan’tnot not knot  
Knotted pumping lines  
Pausing clogged wait  
Wait. Wait. wait  
I know you by your heart  
Brain and matter and grey  
Bound tight to   
thump and soul and crimson  
scarlet scarred scared please  
please.  
don’t leave.  
I know you by your   
you  
me  
your  
heart my heart same heart  
thump thunk bluescarlet wait.  
wait.  
please._

“That’s none of your fucking business,” Luke snapped, snatching the notebook from the desk, his face furious. “Get out of my house. Both of you”

“Luke!” His mother and grandmother spoke in unison, faces identical expressions of disapproval, though Noah was under no delusions that he was welcomed here by them too.

“Sorry,” Noah said, quietly, awkwardly, his hands clenching in his pockets. The poem was… well, Noah didn’t know much about poetry and maybe it was absolute shit, but Noah couldn’t help but relate down to his deepest marrow, each thunk of his heart reminding him how little he knew everyone and how little everyone knew him. And how that probably wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not with Luke. Noah wished that he had a photographic memory, the idea of Luke murmuring those words to him, breath hot against Noah’s ear – Noah had to force himself to stare at his feet.

Finally, a minute later, Holden joined the small clan forming downstairs, looking utterly at ease, eyes only for his family. “I think we know what this is about,” he said calmly, wrapping an arm around his mother and his wife each, tugging them close as they held back on tears.

“You don’t have to do this Dad,” Luke started, furious and vibrating with pent up energy. “We’ll fight this, you can run. We can figure something out.” Holden pressed a kiss to the forehead of each of the women in his arms before crossing the room to wrap an arm around Luke’s shoulders and shake him gently.

“I’m not running anywhere,” Holden said quietly. “You know me better than that Luke.” Luke stared up at his father desperately, clearly wanting to help but not knowing how. “It’ll get sorted out, don’t worry. I’ll be home soon.” He wrapped Luke in a hug and Noah could only watch with a detached sort of envy, before Holden turned to Dusty and was read his rights, quietly and respectfully. 

Luke whirled on Noah. “You sicken me,” Luke said, betrayal on his face. Noah could only stare in response, his heart thudding and his mouth hot and dry. “You’re just like everyone else in this town, small minded and stupid. No wonder your father thinks you do shit work!”

“Hey, watch your mouth,” Dusty said, starting forward with a scowl. Noah laid a hand on his chest, face still calm and implacable.

“Mr. Snyder’s upset,” Noah said, almost robotically. “I understand. C’mon. Let’s just head back to the precinct.” With a heavy heart and a throbbing, aching knot in his stomach, it was all Noah could do to turn away from Luke and head out the door and far, far away.

-

“Noah, have you been in the financial files again?” 

Noah had just stepped into lock up to head towards Holden Snyder’s holding cell for the night – it was only about ten feet down the aisle – but he paused and turned to face his father as he stepped inside after him. “Yes sir,” Noah answered after hesitating a moment. He’d been worried for the past few weeks about what the budgets were coming out with and the results that some of the financial offices had been talking about – it was looking like pay cuts for some people and perhaps even some layoffs if the budgets didn’t sort themselves out – which was suspicious in its own right. Noah’s curiosity had led to a little digging within the files themselves – which wasn’t illegal, just uncommon.

The look on his father’s face was pure fury and Noah had to resist taking a step back from him, his father’s body language all aggression and 

“You need to watch yourself son,” the Captain said, eyes narrowing, voice carrying easily through lock up and probably outside to the cubicle forest. “You are working above your paygrade and what you need to focus on is your fucking case, because your typical substandard work won’t cut it on this one Noah.” Noah nodded, chest hurting something fierce. “Also, you need to tell Donovan that he needs to keep his hands off the Reid Oliver case. You two have been following that fag’s case too closely and now you both look like fags. I can’t have weakness in this precinct and you are setting the example for how to screw up. No son of mine is a fag.” Winston scowled. “Your mother would’ve been disgusted.”

Noah flinched.

The Captain used to forbid Noah to do lots of things. Talking about his mom was forbidden, as was looking at the picture he used to keep under his bed of her. He was forbidden from being impertinent and talking back. Forbidden. It was a word with weight, with a solidity and certainty that little else in Noah's life had. To be forbidden was to have boundaries, to set walls, to draw lines in the sand. 

Sometimes Noah relished the abrupt commands issued by the Captain. For Noah, rules were the answers to questions he had yet to ask. If he pretended hard enough, he could almost believe that the Captain decreed such things out of love and affection and worry. That he anticipated Noah's actions and set these rules to remind him that there was always someone watching, ready to pick him up if he fell. If Noah tried hard enough, he could almost believe that the Captain cared.

Almost.

His picture of his mother… it wasn’t the best picture of her. Time and the eager, heartbroken fingertips of a child had worn away at her face, leaving Noah with only a vague silhouette remaining. She had often been hastily squashed between the pages of books, leaving her edges crinkled and torn. Noah loved his mother very much, but his father did not agree. To bring her up like this, in this fashion – to insult her so blatantly to Noah’s face. To call attention to every part of Noah’s failings that he tried so hard to correct – it was clear that the Captain was trying to strike now and strike hard. Noah just let out a shuddery breath and nodded. “Yes sir,” he enunciated, not moving until his father’s indifferent flick of the hand seemed to say  _‘I’m done with you now, please leave._ ’

Noah’s face burned as he turned away from his father, unceremoniously dismissed, and headed down the concrete aisle, deeper into lock up. He paused in front of Holden’s cell and forced himself to raise his head and square his shoulders and look the man in the eye, even as his hands shook and shame rushed through him. “Sorry you had to hear that,” Noah got out thickly, folding his arms across his chest, unsure of how to react to Holden’s implacable expression.

Holden turned his head to glance back down the aisle to where the Captain had been standing moments before, his face still unreadable. “I’m sorry _you_  had to hear it son,” he said finally, glancing up at Noah. Noah’s throat tightened and he shrugged a shoulder simply.

“I’m also sorry I had to bring you in,” Noah said honestly, taking a step closer to the cell. “I…” He couldn’t believe he was telling an in-custody suspect this, but Noah knew his instincts and he knew, more than anything, that he was right. “I don’t think you killed Damien.” Holden blinked slowly, his lips quirking slightly.

“Well,” he drawled, “I can’t tell you how much of a relief that is to hear. Though I’m a little confused as to how that belief landed me here for the night” Noah bit down on the slight smile that wanted to appear.

“Some higher ups didn’t want to see past the obvious,” Noah said carefully and Holden nodded in understanding.

“I see,” he said, thumbing the five o’clock shadow that was starting along his jaw. “I don’t suppose they took into account that despite how much I hated Damien, I thought what he had done for Luke, finding him a job that Luke loves and enjoys and excels at, meant more than how much I wanted to punch him every time I saw him?”

“They don’t believe it’s relevant,” Noah parroted, eyes narrowing in anger at his father, at this precinct, at this stupid town for crucifying a great man like Holden before evidence was even gathered. “I believe you,” he says fiercely. “God, I don’t know why but I know you didn’t do this.”

“And that’s good enough for me son,” Holden said placidly, settling back casually on his cot, catching Noah’s eye with a firm nod. “I know you’ll do right by me and Luke on this case. I know you’ll catch the real killer. You’re too smart and dedicated not to - I trust you.”

Noah’s throat felt tight as he stared at Holden wordlessly. Was that… was that was having a dad felt like? When your world was slowly collapsing and all you could do was get tugged along by the current, were dads supposed to have the ability to make you feel better about it? The Captain had never said anything resembling those words to him and it was all Noah could do not to beg to hear more.

“I’ll do my best,” Noah said instead, his rote reply to the Captain when he told Noah to step up his game, to stop being a pussy, to get the job done, to stop being a disappointment.

“I’m sure you always do,” Holden said quietly in response and Noah nodded his head jerkily and all but fled, not sure how to deal with someone believing in him.

-

When Luke had started towards the precinct late that evening, he’d had grand and glorious plans of storming the building courageously, punching out anyone who stood between him and freeing his father, perhaps bumping into fucking Detective Mayer and… well, Luke couldn’t decide between shooting him or kissing him, so perhaps both.

But when he pushed through the enormous front doors, he wasn’t greeted by swarms of angry cops – all he saw were tired men and women, peering over paper work, looking like they’d much rather be anywhere but here.

Luke spotted Dusty Donovan at his desk, though the one across from him was empty. He supposed that if he was going to start anywhere, Dusty would be a good place. “Where’s my dad?” Luke demanded, folding his arms as he neared Dusty’s desk. “And where’s Detective Mayer, I want to give him a piece of my mind. And you! What the hell were you thinking, arresting my father? Do you know who he is? What kind of person he is? He’s the most level headed, responsible, kind-”

“If this is all there is kid, please go home,” Dusty said tiredly. “I’m sorry we arrested your dad, but I just don’t have time for this.” Luke’s glare narrowed and he saw red.

“You don’t have time for this? For what? Doing your job? Acting like a detective? Or at least a sentient human being? And where the hell is Mayer, I need him to hear this too-”

At that, Dusty’s face went hard. “You stay the hell away from Mayer. He’s been working is ass off on this case and he doesn’t need a yappy little kid in his face, telling him what a piece of shit he is again.” Luke scowled. “He thinks your dad is innocent and he hasn’t slept in three goddamn _days_ , hunting for proof of it so that we can send him home. Some higher ups got involved and we were forced to arrest your father – and now we’re trying to make sure he doesn’t stay in lock up.”

Luke was quiet for a moment. “He thinks my dad’s innocent?” Luke asked, eyes wide.

“He knows it,” Dusty affirmed. “And he’s driving himself crazy trying to find evidence.” Dusty sighed. “He’s going to kill himself if he keeps moving at this pace.”

Luke couldn’t deal with the twisting, warm feeling in his stomach – part guilt and part inexplicable happiness. He didn’t care what Mayer thought, what Mayer thought was ultimately unimportant – but the idea that he’d been killing himself trying to help Luke’s dad… well, it wouldn’t hurt to thank him for that, right? Luke’s whole face felt warm and he felt a little dizzy as he considered what he might say to the tall, blue eyed officer who he’d purposefully hurt terribly only hours before.

He wasn’t sure he could do that.

“How does he like his coffee?” Luke demanded of Dusty when he neared his desk again. Dusty looked up, blinking.

“Mostly black, half a sugar,” he said slowly, the smirk growing on his face.

“Shut up,” Luke growled, stomping away to the coffee pot and pouring a large cup and half a sugar in, before stomping back and leaving it on Detective Ma…  _Noah’s_  desk.

“Bye Mr. Snyder,” Dusty called after him and it was all Luke could do not to turn back and punch him in the head. Instead, he ignored him and left the precinct, feeling shaky and warm on the inside, thoughts of blue eyes again creeping in.

-

Days passed and Luke was close to just running into the precinct screaming for more information. He tried, through his various connections, some more ethically sound than others, to figure out just how the investigation into his father was going and whether any new evidence had been discovered. He’d encountered Noah at several different places about town, talking to different people, that same quiet, calm smile on his face as he spoke politely and nodded interestedly. Every time Noah had given him a dirty look for interfering, but Luke couldn’t help it. This was his father after all.

“Stay out of the case,” Noah warned. “This is for your own safety Luke.” Luke ignored him utterly – he was solving this case and setting his father free and that was that. But, despite his best efforts, nothing seemed to be coming of his own private investigation. Until one night, a few days later. 

The phone rang that evening, sounding the same as it usually did, foretelling no terrible omen, hinting at nothing. Luke answered it, the same as usual – except perhaps slightly more frustrated than usual. Detective Noah Mayer was being an absolute idiot and Luke could hardly stand it – if only he’d just let Luke in on the investigation, Luke was sure that he could help. He had the resources to do much more than what the Oakdale PD was capable of, but every time he proposed the idea to Detective Mayer, he was greeted with the same imperturbable smile and refusal. “Yes?” Luke snapped into the phone.

“You interested in clearing your father’s name?” came the muffled voice on the other end, unidentifiable as a man or a woman. Luke blinked – stunned into silence for a very brief moment.

“How?” he demanded, all common sense flying out the window as his mind latched onto the idea that there was evidence to exonerate Holden – a video tape? A picture proving he was at home the whole time? “Who is this?”

“A friend,” the voice replied, quiet. “Come to Grimaldi Shipping tonight at eleven. The evidence will be in Damien’s office.”

Luke... well, he didn’t have a choice, did he?

-

On second thought, Luke considered as he faced down the barrel of a gun, perhaps he had been a bit hasty in charging forward in an investigation he had barely managed to catch a glimpse at, never mind understand fully.

Because they had been so wrong, Luke marveled. Well, at least he had – Luke had been investigating some of Damien’s less than savory ties to certain Maltese shipping syndicates and had been very carefully prodding some of the least savory characters who were most likely related to mobs of various sorts. He had no idea where Noah was going with this case, considering how little information Noah was handing off to him – “for his own good.” Luke had scoffed but he was realizing now that Noah had probably been right.

Dammit.

This… Luke stared at the woman behind the gun, perfectly pressed and hair curled precisely. She had always looked so beautiful every time Luke had seen her; her soft polite smile, quiet but whip smart. But now her eyes were crazed, her smile crooked and cruel. Luke had rather liked her when he met her.

But apparently Edith, Damien’s secretary, had liked Damien a lot too.

“You were having an affair with Damien?” Luke asked, his voice quiet.

“It wasn’t an affair!” Edith snapped, gun in her hand shaking violently and Luke held his breath. “He’s not married, he’s not attached – he was  _mine_! We were in  _love_!” Luke could see so clearly how it all went down. Despite Luke’s insistence that Damien would never again stand a chance with Lily, Damien refused to let go of that memory of them together. He was almost obsessed with the idea of reclaiming the family he’d had once ago. Luke had told him time and time again that it would never be – but he could see how Damien would brush off a fling if he’d come up with some new, ridiculous plan to win Lily back.

“But it didn’t last,” Luke said, forcing his tone to be sympathetic, even as Edith focused the gun’s sight on him.

“Because I wasn’t enough!” Edith insisted, “I didn’t do enough for him! I wasn’t good enough at my job, I wasn’t pretty enough! He loved me! I just needed to be enough for him!” Luke’s stomach twisted, whether with terror at being in the room with a cold-blooded, clinically troubled murderer – or at the idea of a terrified woman, clinging to someone who treated her terribly.

“Of course you were,” he said softly, taking a small step backwards as Edith’s gaze whirled around the room.

Edith’s eyes zeroed in on him and her smile turned soft – and terrifying. “You were always so nice to me,” she said wonderingly. “You always remembered my birthday and my mom’s name. You got me flowers that one time – my favorites.” Luke’s eyes widened. He took another step back as Edith reminisced aloud, eyes on the ceiling.

“A friend,” he said quickly, “I was being a friend. Edith, Edith – why did you bring me here? Why did you call me?”

“You! For us!” she said, eagerly. “You could be with me! We could be happy together! You even look like him!” Luke’s urge to vomit increased exponentially as he tried taking another step backwards, creeping closer to escape. “I want us to be happy!”

Luke’s fists clenched and he shook his head. “Edith, we can’t,” he said, “I’m gay Edith, I can’t be with you. You need to let me go – you’ll find someone new, I promise,” he said earnestly, eyes wide, face honest.

Edith’s face went hard. “You’re gay,” she said flatly. “If you’re gay, you’re of no use to me,” she said, hefting the gun again and pointing it at Luke’s face. “If you’re gay, you’re abandoning me, just like he did. And I hurt the people who hurt me,” she said simply. “You’re dead.”

Heart pounding, pulse racing, Luke watched in slow horror as Edith cocked the pistol and steadied it. Words failed him and so he dove behind Damien’s desk, the whole moment feeling as if it passed in slow motion. He could hear the bang of the gun in the large office, thundering in his ears and deafening him for a brief moment. His ears rang loudly as he lay there and for a second, all Luke could do was wonder why Edith hadn’t circled the desk and shot again. But the ringing died away enough that Luke realized that it wasn’t buzzing beneath the ringing – but shouting.

“-your hands in the air!” shouted Noah. “I said drop the gun and put your hands in the air!” Luke peered around the corner of the desk, too low for either Edith or Noah to be able to see him – Edith’s back was to him now and her gun was pointed directly at Noah. Luke’s heard thudded wildly, breath catching in his throat.

“You’re surrounded,” Noah said loudly and calmly. “Please drop your gun and no one will get hurt.”

“Fuck you!” Edith screeched, “All I want is love! And you all keep ruining everything!” She fired and for a split second, Luke’s heart stopped and it was all he could do to keep from lunging after Edith and taking her down – because if Noah was dead… Luke wasn’t sure what he’d do.

But Noah was fine, crouched on one knee, gun still in hand. “Drop the gun!” Edith took aim again – and there was a bang from a gun, but this time it was Noah’s – Edith screamed and her gun clattered to the floor as she clutched at her arm, squeezing and crying. A second later, the room was filled with people – at least five people went to subdue and treat Edith, who was scratching and screaming at anyone who came close. SWAT filled the room, confiscating the gun and trying to speak to Noah – but Luke watched as Noah brushed past them all, rounding the desk to stare down wordlessly at Luke. Luke stared back up silently at him. Noah’s eyes roved over him, anxious – Luke realized he’d had no idea whether or not Luke had gotten hurt or not.

“You absolute idiot!” Noah shouted, as soon as he was assured that Luke was alive and well. He grabbed at Luke’s arm and hauled him off the floor, hands clutching at Luke’s arms, as if assuring himself that Luke was whole and okay. “Are you absolutely insane? You came here alone, without backup, without a weapon, without your  _brain_  – and you expected to survive?” Noah stared wildly down at Luke, who was staring up at him with that intoxicatingly aggravating look of embarrassment and defiance. “You could have  _died_!” Noah said, insistently.

Without a second of hesitation, Noah hauled Luke close with one arm, their chests pressed close together and took his mouth in a desperate, fervent kiss. Detectives and SWAT around him ignored the two, collecting Edith from her crumpled mess on the floor, reporting to each other, speaking into radio comms on their shoulders. At least twenty people surrounded them and all Noah could think about was the frustrating, aggravating, beautiful man in his arms who was kissing back with everything he had.

When they broke away, it was only to take a breath before pressing back against each other, hands clutching tightly at the other.

“I hate you,” Noah muttered, his eyes bright with happiness and relief.

“Hate you too,” Luke murmured. “Kiss me again.”

-

When they got through the gauntlet of SWAT team members who needed to hear the story of how Luke and Noah came to be in Damien’s office and finally managed to get outside, Luke glanced at his watch and groaned. It was nearing three AM and all he wanted to do was collapse in sleep far from anyone – except maybe… he glanced up at Noah, was smiling down at him, looking exhausted and utterly worn out.

The smile quickly disappeared as Noah realized who was coming towards them – Captain Winston Mayer of the Oakdale PD strode towards them, face furious. “What the fuck was that Mayer?” he asked. “I specifically told you to stay away from this building, you went against direct orders. This is the last fucking straw.” The Captain was shouting and Noah flinched as he spoke – every SWAT member and cop within a half mile was staring at them. His dressing downs had never been so public before. “ Disobeying direct orders from your superior  _and_  your father! You’re already a useless detective, you’ve just proven yourself to be a worthless son,” Winston snarled and Noah stared down at the ground. “Fucking around to help some faggy kid? Some faggy doctor? You are a disappointment Noah and first thing in the morning I’m recommending to IA that you be let go.”

“Don’t you speak to him like that!” snapped Luke, nudging past a silent and stunned Noah – ignoring the looks he got from those watching this horrific scene. “Noah’s the only reason you got your thumb out of your ass and found the real murderer! He’s smart and clever and calm and you’re fucking lucky to have him as a cop and a son! You-”

“Keep your nose out of it!” Winston snarled, turning his attention onto Luke and taking a threatening step towards him. “I’m going to-”

“Captain Winston Mayer,” called a voice from just at the edge of the audience that had formed during Noah’s dressing down. “If you could put your hands behind your back for me please.”

Captain Mayer whirled, face mottled red in fury. “What the fuck did you say to me?” The suited man stepped forward, followed by another, followed by a smugly, smiling Margo.

“I said put your hands behind your back, because you’re under arrest,” the man repeated. His partner crossed to the captain, who took two steps back, moving for his gun. Every officer for twenty feet made the same aborted gesture – the tension in the area rocketing up exponentially. Noah pushed Luke back out of the center of the circle, keeping him away.

“Internal Affairs finally found proof of you skimming off of your department budget,” said the partner with the cuffs. “You’re going to jail for a long time buddy.”

“That’s not true at all!” Winston snarled. “This is a set up, this isn’t-”

“I’m afraid not Winston,” Margo said coolly. “I’m rarely wrong about these things – plus the evidence is pretty damning. Recorded phone calls to shady characters, ledgers kept in a secret drawer in your desk. You’re  _done_.” Margo glanced over at Noah and managed a soft smile. With the help of three of the precincts officers – who looked entirely too pleased to be arresting their own captain – the IA official managed to lock the cuffs around the Captain’s wrists.

“Margo Hughes will be acting Captain of the precinct until further notice,” said the other IA officer, speaking to the group at large.

“Noah!” shouted Winston as they dragged him again. “Noah, don’t let them do this! I’m your father!” Noah watched him silently, stomach twisting with guilt – a moment later, Luke slipped his hand into Noah’s, squeezing gently. Noah glanced down at him, smiling gratefully. “No son of mine is a fag!” shouted Winston as they shoved him in the car, looking furious at the sight of Noah and Luke together.

“No son of yours,” Noah agreed aloud.

“Well, well, well. Does this mean you’re not going to be taking Donovan off my hands Mayer?” Reid asked dryly from behind them, arm still in a cast and his left leg in a brace, but generally looking much healthier than he had in days.

Dusty snorted. “You know you love me Oliver. What the fuck would you do without me driving everywhere?”

“Probably have less panic attacks you jackass,” Reid replied promptly but Noah spotted the hint of a smile at the corner of Reid’s lips and how their shoulders brushed when Reid turned to find a bench to settle into so that he could still watch the goings on and make snarky comments about people’s stupidity, but he could be comfortable and still do so.

“You’ll have to deal with Donovan on your own Oliver,” Noah said with a smirk, hand still caught in Luke’s and having no plans of moving it anywhere else.

Margo strode towards them a moment later – the crowd finally clearing some, moving back to doing actual jobs, especially knowing that their new Captain would have something to say about it.

Noah watched as she drew closer, his expression nervous – hand still in Luke’s. What would she say? How would she react? Margo looked at him, her expression unreadable. A long moment passed before a wide smile broke out on her lips and she turned to look at Luke. “Hi Luke,” she said simply, offering her arms for a quick hug, which Luke took gladly.

“Hi Margo,” Luke said with a smile, “it’s nice to see you again, congrats.”

“Thank you,” she replied with a warm smile. “How is your family? Faith and Natalie doing well? And little Ethan? And remind that son of mine to call me every now and again.”

“Of course,” Luke said easily. “But you know Casey.”

“I do,” Margo said, rolling her eyes and smiling. “That I definitely do. You have a good one on your hands, you know,” Margo added, glancing over at the dumfounded Noah.

“Oh,” Luke replied with a smile, “I had an inkling.” Noah flushed. Margo fortunately left them in peace a moment later, leaving Noah to just stare at Luke – unable to believe how everything turned out.

Without hesitation, Luke reached up and tugged Noah down again for another kiss, somehow this time even better than the time before – and Noah had an inkling too, that it would probably just better every time they tried it.

Noah’s name was called and they broke away, Noah glancing over his shoulder at an officer, needing a report. Luke rolled his eyes, but pulled back, still smiling slightly. “Go,” he said, nudging Noah in the right direction. Noah took a reluctant step back, before realizing something.

“Call me,” Noah said, smiling as he pressed one of his cards into Luke’s hand – a perfect mimicry of the first time they met – but this time, Noah’s cell number was scribbled hastily on the back.

Luke smiled up at him, smile sly, eyes bright and made a non-committal noise. “We’ll see,” he said, biting his lip. Noah swooped in for one last quick kiss before disappearing into the crowd of officers, Luke smiling after him.

 

-

 

 **epilogue**

“Noah, you’re going to be late,” Luke reminds him smugly from the kitchen table, wrapped warmly in a bathrobe and slippers, hair still rumpled from bed, hands clutched around a giant mug of coffee.

“Hate you,” Noah mutters, struggling with his tie like every other morning of his entire life. “Hate you so much.” 

“Doubt it,” Luke says around a grape, which he crunches almost as punctuation to his statement, his emphasis sending an affectionately amused expression across Noah’s face. Luke stands as he shoves a handful of grapes into his mouth and crosses to Noah, tugging at Noah’s tie and retying it until it lays perfectly against Noah’s throat, the light blue of the tie matching his eyes almost perfectly. “Dere yoo goh,” Luke mumbles around the twenty grapes he shoved into his mouth gleefully.

“Oh god, you are so unattractive right now,” Noah groans, laughing and hiding his face in his hand. Luke snorts around the mouthful of grapes he is currently storing in his cheeks like a chipmunk. He makes a noise of disagreement and Noah peeks his head above his fingers. 

Luke tries to raise one eyebrow appealingly, but only succeeds in losing a few grapes from his mouth – they all land on Noah’s hand and arm and Noah squawks and bats them away, sending them rolling off of him and under the fridge and table.

“Why is my boyfriend so gross?” Noah half-wails, laughing despite this. Luke is chomping away at his huge mouthful of grapes, grinning wickedly. Finally swallowing hard, Luke smiles more broadly.

“Guess you just got lucky, huh?” Luke says sweetly, offering a grape from the bowl to Noah, eyes wide and innocent.

“Or someone up there hates me,” Noah mutters, still smiling. He reaches up to take the grape from Luke’s fingers, but Luke yanks it away and makes a noise of protest. When Noah’s brow furrows, Luke simply presses the grape to Noah’s lips and smiles.

Noah gets the picture.

One by one, Luke offers a few grapes to Noah, pressing them teasingly to his mouth and letting the tips of his fingers brush Noah’s lips and tongue as Noah swallows the grapes down.

“Have to go to work,” Noah says hoarsely, barely pulling away in the slightest. “Just because some of us are lazy-”

“Self-employed,” Luke corrected, smiling coyly. “Some of us are just luckier than others.”

Noah smiles. “Some of us are,” he agrees simply, drawing Luke in for a lengthy goodbye kiss.

(And another.)

(And another.)

-

 _now i'll be bold_

 __  
  
_as well as strong_   


  
__  
  
  
_use my head alongside my heart_   


  
__  
  
  
_so take my flesh_   


  
__  
  
  
_and fix my eyes_   


  
__  
  
  
_that tethered mind free from the lies_   



End file.
